


Strawberries & Skele-Gro

by KrysKrossZee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Gen, Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Ice Cream, Moving Portraits (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrysKrossZee/pseuds/KrysKrossZee
Summary: Pansy Parkinson has a secret that she can't tell anyone but the portrait that comes to visit her every time she has to stay over in the Hospital Wing.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson & Phineas Nigellus Black
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18
Collections: Half-Blood Prince Drabble Elimination Challenge





	Strawberries & Skele-Gro

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely loved writing this fic. Anyone who knows me knows that I suffer with chronic illness so to be able to write like this was honestly so cathartic. Pansy is becoming a favourite character of mine to write, and here we get to see her slightly more vulnerable than in my other fics that feature her.
> 
> Thank you to SethWren who beta'd this at the last minute.

Skele-Gro was probably one of the worst things that Pansy had ever had to put into her body, but unfortunately for her, it was the only thing that had worked so far to keep her condition under control. And she had to keep it under control. She couldn't show any signs of weakness or she would bring shame on her entire family. To do that was a fate worse than death.

That didn't mean that she didn't complain every time that she had to sneak out of the Slytherin Common Room and make her way to the hospital wing for her treatment where Madame Pomfrey was waiting for her. She could practically hear her bones creaking as she sat down on the bed; she knew that was all in her head but that didn't change the fact that every single bone in her body ached because she was six hours late for her treatment.

"Save it." She muttered to the healer as she watched Madame Pomfrey gearing up to give her a lecture about how important it was that she take the potion every seventy-two hours like clockwork. She'd had the lecture many times before but that didn't mean that it was at all easy for her to manage to get out of things without drawing attention to herself. If she skipped class then people were sure to notice and she really didn't want to have to risk that.

Madame Pomfrey seemed to respect this for once and instead handed Pansy the steaming beaker of vile green liquid. "Drink up and I'll be back with your ice cream in a few minutes."

Pansy knew that it was a little ridiculous that even at the age of sixteen she was still having to be bribed to drink a potion that she had been taking for the last three years, but it was mainly a psychological thing for her now. If she got through drinking this potion, then she could have the sweet reward that followed. It sounded simple enough that her pain levels would be massively reduced should be rewarding enough, but that simply wasn't the case. She needed something more.

She sipped at the potion, part of her knowing that the easiest way was just to get it over and done with but she couldn't seem to do that so instead she drew it out like she always did. It wasn't as if she got instant relief from the potion anyway. A night of agonising torture always followed as the magic worked to strengthen her bones and that sounded like a party she wanted to prolong for as long as possible, even with the promise of ice cream afterwards.

"Is that you back?" An all too familiar voice asked from the portrait across from her bed. She always took up residence in the same bed and he always visited her. Even though the old headmaster drove her crazy, it was still a better way to pass the time than trying to talk herself out of crying all night.

"Hello Phineas." She hummed without even bothering to look up as she pretty much choked down another mouthful of the potion. "You must have it written in your calendar by now, surely."

"I don't own a calendar." The former headmaster told her, his tone matter-of-fact in a way that bugged Pansy more than a little, but she kept that to herself.

She couldn't tell her friends and have them here with her in the Hospital Wing so the portrait was the next best thing. He at least sort of got it, why she couldn't talk to anyone, not even Draco, about the things that she was going through. He was keeping something from her as it was and that was putting a strain on their relationship. Secrets tended to do that.

But she could be totally honest with a painting. She knew that there was a chance that he could tell someone in the Black family about her flaw, about the very thing disease that threatened her entire future and therefore her prospects of being able to continue on her family line - and of course her future husband's family line - but Phineas seemed to like to make a point of reminding her that he had very little care for the affairs of human beings. He was a memory of the person he depicted, not the actual person.

"What flavour ice cream do you think it will be today?" Phineas asked after a moment or two in which Pansy thought she was going to throw up. She could actually feel the potion burning her throat now and that pain was actually overpowering the pain she felt in her back and legs just then.

"Hopefully butterbeer." She murmured. The last thing she wanted to think about just then was food but she appreciated that Phineas was trying to distract her from her current situation. "Maybe strawberry."

"Mm, strawberries. I wonder if the Fat Lady has any that I might be able to borrow… It's been a while since I had a strawberry." There was a pause in which Pansy decided just to knock back the last of the potion. She knew that if she dragged it out any further then she definitely would end up vomiting.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I took my children strawberry picking?" Phineas continued as Pansy fell back on the bed and let her eyes fix on a spot on the ceiling. She wasn't sure that his story had ever actually happened, it was one that she had heard many times, but that didn't mean that she was going to stop him from telling the story just now. His voice and the spot on the ceiling gave her something to think about other than how crappy she felt.


End file.
